


Strike a Pose

by Lady_Phenyx



Series: Fluffvember 2019 [21]
Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Love Confessions, Multi, Sassy Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Snusmumriken | Snufkin Has Paws and a Tail, Snusmumriken | Snufkin is so done, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21516199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Phenyx/pseuds/Lady_Phenyx
Summary: Artists searching for models have invaded Moomin Valley, and are bothering Joxter and Snufkin to model for them - and one in particular won't give up.And they're getting very irritated about it.Meanwhile, sleeping over in Moomin House and a game of truth or dare brings certain things to light.Fluffvember Day 21: Drawing Each Other | Truth or Dare
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snorkfröken | The Snork Maiden/Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Springtime Trio
Series: Fluffvember 2019 [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533602
Comments: 7
Kudos: 102





	Strike a Pose

So many things in Moomin Valley began with something small, some silly little thing that snowballed out of control.

Sometimes they didn't overlap, but, well, life was messy like that quite often.

There was another influx of artists at the moment in Moomin Valley. It wasn't Moominpappa's influence this time, no picture of his that brought them all here for landscapes or a contest based on his work.

No, they just all congregated on Moomin Valley to everyone's confusion – until one of them let slip how they would find a place and come to compete at painting something about the space until they felt they'd fulfilled their creativity for awhile, moving on to someplace new.

This time around, they were more interested in finding models than in landscapes.

Why they came to Moomin Valley for that, no one could really say. Perhaps, as a few of them brought models with them, it was to draw them against the landscapes of Moomin Valley, as the loose lipped artist had suggested.

There were quite a few people who were more than willing to pose for them, though.

The remainder were annoyed by it. After all, they had things to do, lives to live, and the artists were in the way, disturbing everything.

They'd gone through the artist thing once before, why again?

Snufkin found himself very glad his father was visiting. High handed people like some of these artists might have been willing to take advantage of Moominmamma, of her generosity and kindness, to treat her like a servant, but with Joxter glaring at them, they suddenly found themselves modifying their requests, using 'please' and 'thank you', and fairly compensating for what they asked.

Not that Joxter cared much about the third part, but he could get fiercely protective, and he was still scarier than Snufkin. They would respect Moominmamma, or else.

Not that being intimidated was keeping the artists from trying to convince Joxter to sit for them.

If anything, he was being sighed and pined over just as much as his son – and being just as annoyed by the whole thing.

All right, so there was a certain flattery in the artists melting over them, in all the compliments over their looks, over the fluff of their tails and the sharpness of their claws, over the romance of their lifestyles, especially after all the times they'd been looked down at for those same traits.

But a surfeit of anything was still too much, and made anything grow sour. Snufkin, in particular, was uncomfortable with the compliments and fawning and flattery. From Snorkmaiden and Moomin it was good, made him blush and smile and get flustered, but from these strangers? It made him want to hide and snap, and his father felt the same. And when so many of them had been rude to Moominmamma, turning around and trying to sweet talk the two of them was only going to irritate them even more.

They were both getting short, sassy, and snarky with the artists, though most people hadn't heard them doing so yet, as the artists weren't approaching them as often when they had backup to keep them to their manners, to call them out when they tried to manipulate either mumrik.

It was especially grating to watch for Snorkmaiden and Moomin, though they tried not to let it show how much the artists fawning over Snufkin was getting to them.

“Now, child, jealousy doesn't become a lady,” Aunt Hemulen (who was visiting for only a day, thank goodness, and while the Moominparents were here) scolded gently (for her) as Snorkmaiden glared at an artist attempting to kiss Snufkin's hand, surrounded by other artists competing for his attention, making his tail lash in distress.

“I'm not jealous,” Snorkmaiden insisted. “I'm just tired of them bothering one of my friends. I don't understand, why won't they leave Snufkin alone? He doesn't like attention, he needs his solitude, Aunt Hemulen,” she said. “All this fuss has to be bothering him. More than bothering him, it's everything he hates. Look at his tail, you can tell how upset he is from here.”

“He's miserable,” Little My popped in. “Moomin's all worried that Snufkin's enjoying the attention but he just wants left alone and no one's listening when he or Joxterpappa say to stop. I've heard some of the things the artists are telling them. You wouldn't believe some of the things they're saying. It's gross.”

“That is unacceptable!” Aunt Hemulen snapped, standing sharply from the table. “A no should always be heeded!”

She snatched up her umbrella and stormed off of the Moomin House veranda and in the direction of the artists surrounding Snufkin.

The people on the veranda were too far away to make out what they were saying, but they didn't need to to be able to tell that she was letting the artists have the sharp side of her tongue, driving them all away as she shook her umbrella at them angrily.

Snufkin stared at her, his tail fluffed in alarm, while Joxter cackled. Aunt Hemulen turned her ire on him, and from the veranda they guessed that she was demanding to know why he wasn't keeping the artists away from his son.

Which, they all knew, was impossible, as the artists were tricky and they were after Joxter as much as Snufkin – and so long as Joxter was keeping those claws and teeth of his to himself (and given how he hated violence, it was going to take a lot more than this to provoke him) they were going to keep bothering him as well.

Aunt Hemulen was apparently not satisfied with that answer but accepted it, as Joxter was doing his best without resorting to violence, dragging the two back with her to the veranda. Not literally, but when Aunt Hemulen got onto something she tended to plow over the people around her.

Snufkin disappeared into the house, and Joxter stopped her from going after him.

“We're grateful for the rescue, but he's going to need a little time,” Joxter said, sprawling across the stairs. “Some of them are getting really persistent. He needs some time by himself.”

“It's awful, they're being so terrible. I wanted so badly to ask if I could have drawn both of you, but there's no chance now,” Snorkmaiden said sadly.

Joxter leaned his head back, glancing at her out of slitted eyes. “Oh, don't be so sure. For you, he might just say yes. I might've said yes if they hadn't been so pushy about it. And been so nasty to other people first. It's just staying in one position for hours on end – let me sleep and I can do that easy.”

Snorkmaiden giggled softly. “Then do you think maybe I could draw you sometime?”

“I suppose so, since you asked nicely and aren't being creepy about it,” Joxter replied carelessly. “See, that easy.”

The conversation turned, but none of them noticed the way Little My looked in the direction the artists had fled, eyes narrowed and calculating.

\---XXX---

Little My stormed into the room where Snufkin was resting – she called it hiding, and knew she was being a little unfair, but was too angry not to be.

“Why haven't you yelled at those artists to leave you alone if they're bothering you?” she demanded. “Be firm about it instead of just running off!”

“Hello, Little My,” Snufkin said, not moving from where he was sitting, his arms propped up on the window and his chin on his paws. “I have. They're not listening. I did use those exact words, believe it or not.”

“Have you hissed at them yet?” she asked, still in a fine fury as a head of steam like the one she'd worked up took time to let loose and dissipate.

“I haven't been ready to, and I don't want to unless I'm ready to back it up,” he answered, shifting as she climbed up onto the window seat next to him. “They'll be leaving before much longer. I don't know why they won't let up, I don't think many of them could finish a full painting before then. I've gotten sharp with most of them, but they're oblivious.”

“Probably willing to stick around for bragging rights,” Little My grumbled, mollified at the thought of Snufkin being sharp with them, leaning against her brother, who flicked his thick, fluffy tail up to wrap around her. “Ha, ha, I got him to pose for me.”

“Why didn't you tell me how bad it was getting?” she demanded after a few minutes of quiet.

Snufkin shrugged. Little My poked his side, making him jerk. “You're supposed to tell us these things,” she snapped.

“I hadn't realized how much it was bothering me until now,” he shot back.

“You didn't?” came from the door, and they turned to find Moomin and Snorkmaiden standing there. “Sorry, we knocked but you didn't hear I guess.”

Snufkin sighed softly, softly enough only Little My heard him as they came in. “Yesterday was the worst,” he said. “It's just been small enough until now it didn't seem worth complaining about. It's been building up, I suppose. Death by a thousand cuts, can't complain about any one incident but it gets to you. And yes, I've told them to stop. I've been fairly nasty with a few of them, actually. So I don't know why they won't.”

“Why don't you spend the night here tonight?” Moomin asked. “I mean, at least then they can't bother you in the morning or anything. Not until you're ready to leave, walls will keep them away better than the tent.”

“It could be a sleepover,” Snorkmaiden said enthusiastically.

Snufkin glanced out the window again and winced. “You know what? Let's. I could do with a distraction.”

“Like remembering how Aunt Hemulen went after them with only a little prodding?” Little My asked, miming swinging an umbrella. “About time she went after somebody else!”

Snufkin chuckled. “It was pretty satisfying,” he admitted. “But maybe we could talk about other things for awhile.”

\---XXX---

They were up late into the night, talking and laughing.

Little My, predictably enough, was the one to bring up truth or dare.

Sniff hid behind Moomin, terrified of the very idea, while the others cautiously agreed.

Little My had something in mind, and they weren't quite sure what.

Still, things were being kept light so far as they went around the circle. It took Sniff nearly a full minute to decide between truth or dare, saying one and then the other, flipping back and forth again and again.

Get some cookies without Moominmamma seeing you. What's something you've never told anyone before? Balance on one foot and sing All Small Beasts. What's the angriest you've ever gotten? Go try and wake up Joxterpappa without getting caught.

Then it happened.

Snufkin eyed his sister, whose turn it was to choose a victim and had picked her little brother.

“This isn't going to turn out well either way, is it?” he said flatly.

Little My cackled softly, shaking her head.

He kept eying her warily, debating his choices. They weren't appealing, not with Little My obviously plotting something the way she was.

“...truth,” he said finally.

Little My grinned up at Snufkin. “Are you in love with both Moomin and Snorkmaiden?”

Snufkin went pale. “I...of course I love them, they're my closest friends,” he said.

Little My glared at him. “That's not what I meant and you know it. Are you _in love with_ Moomin and Snorkmaiden?”

“Little My!” Snorkmaiden scolded. Moomin still hadn't recovered from the shock of her question, staring straight ahead and blushing bright red.

Little My glared back at her. “Oh come on, I know you both love him like that, and I'm sick of waiting for you to make a move! Now answer the questions, Snufkin!”

Snufkin had retreated behind his hat while the two argued.

There was a pause, long and tense, before Snufkin nodded.

“Snufkin?” Moomin asked, his own face still aflame but once more functioning.

Snufkin blindly groped for Moomin's paw, and squeezed it when it was placed in his, his tail thrashing behind him, and nodded once more.

“Finally,” Little My said with satisfaction.

“That was mean, Little My,” Snorkmaiden said even as she scooted closer to the bundle that was Snufkin.

Little My shrugged, unrepentant. “Anything at this point. You're welcome, by the way.”

“...what were you going to do if he picked dare?” Sniff asked, sounding as though he weren't sure he wanted to know the answer.

“Dare him to kiss them,” Little My said, as if it were obvious.

“You're a horrible little gremlin,” Snufkin groaned from under his hat.

Little My grinned wider. “Aw, what're big sisters for?”

\---XXX---

The three of them were sitting on the steps the next morning, paw in paw and leaning against one another in that first flush of love acknowledged and returned.

Little My, Moominmamma, and Moominpappa were at the table, lingering over the remains of breakfast while Little My made faces at her brother's back.

She may have wanted the pining over with, but it didn't mean she wasn't going to be disgusted by all the lovey-dovey mush on display.

Joxter laid on the railing, his tail dangling over the side, swaying gently, and thoroughly pleased with himself and the morning and his children.

Snufkin groaned suddenly. “See that artist at my camp?” he said quietly when everyone turned to him. “He's being very annoying. And oblivious.”

Joxter sat up, squinting down to the camp and the artist wandering it, trying to see if Snufkin were at home. “He's been annoying me, too,” he said. “And he was nasty to Moominmamma. As if we'd sit for him after he was nasty to _Moominmamma_ , honestly.”

The artist turned and spotted them, hurrying up the path.

“My answer's still no,” Snufkin said as soon as he was within earshot, not moving from where he leaned against Moomin, holding Snorkmaiden's paw.

The artist pouted, ignoring or oblivious to the glares of Moominpappa and Little My, the way Joxter's tail had gone from a happy sway to an angry thrash.

“Why must you be so stubborn?” the artist asked, in a whining voice that set all their teeth on edge. “I merely wish to immortalize your beauty on canvas! All wish their portraits to be painted by the great artists!”

“You aren't one of them,” Snufkin said dryly, making Snorkmaiden smother a startled giggle with her paw as Moomin stared at Snufkin with hearts in his eyes and Little My cackled. “Aren't most artists only considered one of the greats after they're dead?”

“With such a model as you, I soon will be!”

“What, dead?” Snufkin said, all wide eyed innocence.

“Think of the fame! The exposure!”

“I don't like people knowing about me. And people die from exposure.”

“Oh, why must you be so stubbornly unreasonable!” the artist wailed, throwing his arm over his forehead in over-dramatic despair.

“It's a gift,” Snufkin said dryly.

Joxter had buried his face in his arm, but they could still hear him laughing. Little My wasn't trying to hide her annoyance or her laughter, cackling louder yet.

The rest were watching, a bit stunned or amazed but hanging back, letting Snufkin handle it.

“You'll see, I'll convince you yet!” the artist said, clenching his fists. “I shall return, again and again, until I find what will convince you to model for me!”

With that, the artist turned, dramatic and only lacking the flair of a cape to make the flounce perfect, and left.

Snufkin turned to the others, who were a mix of staring in disbelief and giggling wildly. “You see what I mean? I don't think half of what I said registered with him.”

“That was...almost impressive,” Snorkmaiden said.

“And annoying. You should bite him,” Little My said. “Want me to do it for you?”

“...not yet, Little My.” 

\---XXX---

Snorkmaiden finally got her chance to try drawing Snufkin a few days after the majority of the artists left the valley, and Moomin took a shot at it as well at the same time. 

They weren't the best artists, but there was a lot of love put into the drawings. And they were able to sketch the rest of their family, Joxter included.

They weren't ready to try paints, not like Moominpappa, but they sketched all over the valley, carrying the supplies around with them for when the opportunity arose.

They weren't going to ask Snufkin for a pose yet, but when he was just relaxing? When they could talk to him and all three of them have fun while sketching? That, they could do, and they were improving – slowly, but surely.

And so long as he didn't have to move, Joxter was a willing model as well.

It was amazing what asking nicely and not being rude would get you. 

Well, that and dating your model/your model's son.

\---XXX---

Most of the artists had left, but the most persistent had stayed.

And the one who was annoying Snufkin and Joxter the most had yet to leave.

The trio were laughing, sketchbooks out and partially finished sketches paused while they laughed too hard to draw, when a shadow fell over them.

They turned, and the greetings died on their lips as they found the artist glaring down at them, his eyes fixed on their sketches of the riverbank and the still fishing Snufkin.

His mouth was fixed in a snarl, and his trembling hands looked moments from striking.

“Why?” he growled. “Why them? They aren't artists, they can barely sketch! Look at this!” he snapped, snatching up Snorkmaiden's sketchbook, ignoring her indignant cries. “The proportions, the shading! Wrong, all wrong! They'll never do you justice! Why are you posing for them and not for me!”

“Because they asked, they didn't demand,” Snufkin snapped back, rising, tail lashing and twice its usual size. 

“I asked!” the artist said, a paw to his chest, still holding Snorkmaiden's sketchbook aloft.

“Did you? You gave a lot of demands, and a lot of reasons for me to, but none of them were in the form of a _choice_ ,” Snufkin snapped, beyond the end of his patience. “And before that you were short and nasty with Moominmamma, and now, with my partners. You never even learned my name, or asked what I wanted! And you _never_ listened when I said no! Now give Snorkmaiden back her book and leave us alone!”

“This? She'd be better off starting over, or leaving it to the professionals,” the artist sniffed, paler than before but not yet backing down. “Now, if you'll sit for me, I just might forgive you. Please, a professional portrait, just one...”

“Give it back and _leave us alone!”_ Snufkin roared, the fangs he kept hidden outside of the valley on full display, his voice echoing as the full, guttural, lionish roar ripped from him.

The artist staggered back, the sketchbook dropping from his paws as Snufkin advanced on him.

“You...they...what...”

“Stay away from my partners, stay away from my family, and stay away from me!” Snufkin hissed. “Until you can learn some respect!”

The artist turned and fled, while Snorkmaiden and Moomin stared at Snufkin in shock.

His tail kept lashing as he panted, slowly calming. He reached up and rubbed at his throat, wincing.

“Ow. I think I hurt my throat,” he said softly.

“I didn't know you could do that!” Moomin gasped. Snufkin winced again, but when he turned to them, they were both looking at him starry eyed.

“I didn't either,” Snufkin admitted. “It's been a long time since I've been that angry.” He bent and picked up the sketchbook, holding it back out to Snorkmaiden. “Princess? Don't listen to him. You just started, and I like your art. It makes you feel good to draw, right? Don't let him take that from you.” He winced, rubbing at his throat again.

Snorkmaiden took his paw, tugging gently. She nuzzled at his cheek in a Snork kiss when he came to her. “I won't,” she promised. “Right now, though, I think we should go to Moominmamma for something for your throat.”

Snufkin nodded, and the three of them made their way up to Moomin House, holding paws and nuzzling along the way.

And Snufkin posed later for Snorkmaiden and Moomin, so they could finish the sketch that had been interrupted

\---XXX---

There were a few artists who had stayed to finish paintings, one of whom was respectful enough – a pleasant, sweet young lady that was almost too shy to ask for models, who stammered her way through the question – that Joxter agreed to model for a set of paintings for, in exchange for a few miniatures – a specialty of hers that she loved to do but weren't in high demand.

So that when he and Snufkin left for the winter, Joxter and Snufkin carried around their necks, tucked under their smocks, small lockets with miniatures of Snufkin and Little My and Mymble on one side and Mymblemamma and the Moominparents on the other half for Joxter, while Snufkin's held a portrait of Moomin on one side and Snorkmaiden on the other.

And for Moomin and Snorkmaiden, kept safe in small boxes by the bed, sat their lockets – Snorkmaiden and Snufkin for Moomin, and Moomin and Snufkin for Snorkmaiden.

So in the end, a more than a few good things came out of the whole thing, and they came out positive in Snufkin's view.

Sort of made it all worth it.


End file.
